


A Valentine's Day to Remember

by Persiflage



Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [14]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Hot Chocolate, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Robbie Medcalf (Mentioned), Romance, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Tumblr Prompt, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: AU: Bernie works in a coffeeshop, Serena's a teacher, and Robbie's still a dick.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960414
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	A Valentine's Day to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an Anon for the Mashed Up Tropes Meme on Tumblr, for the tropes: 4. Coffeeshop AU and 45. Chocolate of Romance.
> 
> This fic was actually inspired by one that I wrote for a different fandom a couple of years ago - but they're two entirely different fics - I just stole the idea of one of the characters breaking up with their boy/girlfriend being overheard by the other character, who works in a coffeeshop.
> 
> (You can blame the summary for this fic on Sev (sort of) - I described the premise to her in those words and she immediately said I should use that for the AO3 summary. So I did!)

Bernie Wolfe balances the tray against the door in front of her in order to lift her hand from the tray and knock carefully upon the door, then she grasps the tray again and steps back a couple of paces in order to avoid looming up on her next door neighbour.

The door opens on its chain and her neighbour, Serena, peers through the gap. She frowns at Bernie, which is hardly surprising since they hardly know each other despite having lived in neighbouring flats for the past three months.

“It’s Ms Wolfe, isn’t it?” Serena asks, her gaze drifting from Bernie’s face to the white plastic tray in her hands, and the contents thereof.

“Bernie,” she supplies, smiling. “Hi. I hope you don’t think this is weird, but I – uh - I overheard your breakup with your boyfriend a couple of days ago. And – uh – I figured you’d need cheering up today.” Today being Valentine’s Day.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Serena says, smiling briefly. “Pun intended, I guess.”

Bernie smirks at her and she blinks, then unhooks the chain on the door and pulls it open, stepping back that she might step inside.

“Thank you. That – that looks amazing, actually.”

Bernie ducks her head, smiling shyly now. “Thanks. I just thought that it might make you feel better. I mean, so long as you _like_ chocolate, of course.”

“I do,” Serena says. “Come through.”

Bernie follows Serena down the short hall into the kitchen at the end, then sets her tray down on the kitchen table, which is laid for one, but there’s no smell of food in the air. Perhaps Serena’s ordering a takeaway.

“Did you do the marshmallows yourself?” Serena asks and Bernie nods.

“Yeah. Tricky buggers, they were. Took a bit to get them all nice and even.”

“I feel like I should take a photo of this and post it on social media,” Serena says, her tone meditative. 

“Um, well, I guess you could if you wanted to – it’s yours now, after all.”

“Indeed.” Serena continues to stare and Bernie glances down at the tray and its contents too, taking in the tall white coffeeshop branded mug, currently full of hot chocolate laced with crème de menthe and peppermint. A rather boozy version of a familiar drink. The mug has pink marshmallow hearts around the rim, and more of them scattered on the saucer that the mug stands on. The saucer is surrounded by origami flowers and hearts, which took Bernie just as long as the marshmallow hearts to create. On a plate to either side of the mug are more chocolate treats: a stack of triple chocolate biscuits to the right and a thick slice of chocolate fudge cake on the left.

Serena shakes her head. “You certainly know the way to a girl’s heart.”

Bernie looks up, stares at her in wonderment, then she clears her throat and says, “I hope you enjoy it, Serena.”

To her surprise Serena’s hand shoots out and grasps her wrist. “Oh no, don’t go,” she says immediately. “Please.”

“Are you – are you sure?” she asks, feeling shaky at the contact, the warmth of Serena’s fingers encircling her wrist, not to mention the heat in the other woman’s dark brown eyes.

“I’m very sure,” Serena says firmly.

“O-Okay.” 

“Will you share this with me?” 

“I – uh – well, not the hot chocolate. I don’t actually like the stuff.” She scowls at the mug. “I tend to drink tea.”

“Then let me make you a mug.”

“Oh, no,” Bernie says quickly. “Let me make it. You should drink the hot chocolate before it goes cold.”

“Very well.” Serena directs Bernie to the cupboard holding the mugs and teacups and saucers, then the one holding her stash of teas. She finds a Moroccan Mint tea with Rose flavoured Green loose tea in a cannister and pulls it out, grabbing the tea infuser as well.

“I like your taste in teas,” Bernie can’t help observing as she fills the tea infuser with the loose tea, then pops it into a mug before checking the kettle has water, then switching it on.

“Thank you.” Serena is hovering, Bernie notices, and wonders why. It’s her home, after all, and she definitely doesn’t need Bernie’s permission to sit down. Then it occurs to her that perhaps Serena’s planning to sit somewhere other than the kitchen, where Bernie herself would sit, or rather does sit, on a daily basis. She is glad that the kettle finishes boiling fairly promptly, and pours some water into her mug, then she grabs it and the saucer she got to put the infuser on once the tea is to her preferred strength. 

She moves towards Serena, who immediately picks up the tray that Bernie brought her, and which is now adorned with two napkins – linen, Bernie suspects – that have been rolled and slid through fancy, carved napkins rings. She thinks, a little guiltily, of her own tendency to just tear off a couple of sheets of kitchen paper and blushes a little behind Serena’s back as she leads them out of the kitchen and into a very elegant sitting room. It’s a lovely room and a very strong contrast to Bernie’s own room, which is full of mismatched, reconditioned furniture, including several bookcases crammed with stacks of books, CDs, and DVDs, that take up the back wall of the room.

“You’ve got a lovely home,” Bernie says when Serena gestures for her to sit beside her on the sofa.

“Thank you.” Serena offers her a napkin and she slides it out of the carved wooden ring, spreads the linen across her lap, then sets the ring on the coffee table. “Biscuit?”

“Thanks.” Bernie takes one, rests it on top of her napkin, and fishes the tea infuser out of her mug.

“You went for a mint tea, I notice.”

Bernie chuckles. “Seemed apt – to have a mint tea to go with your mint flavoured hot chocolate.”

“Indeed, it is.” Serena takes a bite of biscuit, then moans, the most sensual sound that Bernie’s heard in ages. “Good god, these are sinful,” she says once she’s swallowed. “Did you make these?”

“Um, yes. And the cake. I bake for the coffeeshop, actually. Well, and work there. I can’t make coffee worth a damn, according to my boss, Fletch, but I am a ‘dab hand’ at hot chocolate, tea, and baking, which is enough to keep me employed.” She sighs. “It’s a far cry from my former career, but, well, it keeps me off the streets.”

“What was your former career, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, trauma surgeon with the RAMC. But I – uh – I might’ve got a bit blown up at the beginning of the year.”

“‘A bit blown up’?” Serena repeats. “How do you only get blown up a bit?”

Bernie huffs a laugh. “My driver spotted the roadside IED a bit too late to avoid it completely. She swerved, it blew up, we rolled and ended up upside down in a poppy field. In Afghanistan. My injuries weren’t too bad, obviously, or I wouldn’t be here, but the hospital where I was treated messed up. They claimed I had TB, which I didn’t, but I had to go into quarantine and everything, and the Army refused to let me return. I’d just been offered a ten year commission, too, and would’ve been promoted to go with it.” She sighs, then bites into her biscuit, hoping that she doesn’t sound as bitter as she still feels about the loss of her career.

“That’s awful,” Serena says.

Bernie shrugs. As far as she’s concerned it’s water under the bridge. “No use crying over spilt milk,” she observes. “So that’s me.”

“What rank were you, before the Army kicked you out?”

“Major.”

Serena’s eyes go wide and sort of glassy, and Bernie wonders if the other woman is alright. She clears her throat, preparatory to asking, and Serena blinks, then picks up the mug and drinks some of her hot chocolate.

“Good god, Bernie, this stuff’s as decadent as those chocolate biscuits.”

She can’t help smirking at that. “I’m glad that you like it.”

“Like it? Good grief, no, I more than like it.”

Bernie chuckles, then eats some more of her chocolate biscuit. “So, what about you?” she asks. “Where do you work?”

Serena sighs softly, then dabs at her top lip with her napkin. “At Holby City Academy. I teach biology to the year 11s.” 

Bernie scowls, trying to recall what ages the Year numbers match up to.

“That’s the 15 and 16 year olds,” Serena says, kindly taking pity on Bernie’s bafflement. “So, the children taking their GCSEs. I’m also head of the Science Department and deputy Head of the school.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Bernie can’t help observing.

Serena snorts. “It is. But it’s also very satisfying.”

“Your ex wasn’t a teacher, was he?”

Bernie regrets the question immediately when Serena’s expression darkens. “Sorry. That’s none of my business, and why would you want to talk about him anyway? Forget I asked, please.” She can’t help reaching out and clasping Serena’s wrist, even though she’s not usually a tactile person.

To her surprise, Serena shifts her arm so that her fingers end up entwined with Bernie’s. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a remarkably gallant woman? Besides romantic and handsome.” 

“You – uh – you think so?” Bernie asks, flushing. 

“I do.” 

“Th-thank you.” A large part of Bernie wants to bolt out of there, wants to run away and never see Serena again, because she is absolutely rubbish at relationships. But another, smaller part of her, who’d occasionally seen Serena in their block of flats or outside on the pavement and had noticed what a gorgeous woman her neighbour is, wants to lean over and kiss her luscious looking lips, and then carry her to bed and make tender love to her all night long. 

Serena squeezes her fingers. “I’m not sorry that Robbie and I broke up. He was, to be quite honest, a dick, and the sex was never more than average.” Bernie can feel herself blushing at this frankness. “And, I won’t lie, you caught my eye soon after I moved in and I – well, I hope this won’t scare you off, Bernie – but I was immediately attracted to you.” 

Bernie gazes at her for a long moment, then disentangles their fingers, grabs Serena’s mug, wraps the napkin around the second biscuit she’d taken from the plate, and puts them both on the tray, then she leans in and her lets her lips hover over Serena’s. “May I?” she asks, her voice low and raspy. 

“God, please do.” 

Bernie slides a hand through Serena’s hair, then cups the back of her head and neck, before pressing her mouth to the other woman’s and doing her utmost to kiss her utterly senseless. 

Serena’s right hand slides into Bernie’s hair, while her left arm wraps around her shoulders, and she gives as good as she’s getting, kissing-wise. 

Bernie’s not entirely sure at what point they move from sitting up to lying down, but she’ll admit to being somewhat more comfortable, plus, it’s easier to draw her hand down and cup Serena’s breast in her right hand, her thumb rubbing repeatedly over her nipple, until it’s solidly erect beneath her hand. As she continues to kiss the brunette, she allows her hand to slide down Serena’s side, heading for the waistband of her trousers. 

She’s startled when Serena’s hand clasps her own, drawing it away from the danger zone. 

“Not. Here,” Serena tells her, breathing rapidly. “If you’re planning on fucking me, Bernie Wolfe, then you’ll fuck me in my bed.” 

Bernie sits up and offers a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Serena swats at her leg. “Behave, soldier, or you won’t be getting lucky tonight.” 

Bernie clambers off the sofa, then bends her knees and scoops Serena, who shrieks in surprise, up into her arms. “Bedroom?” she asks, breathlessly. 

“First door on the right once you step out of this room,” Serena says. 

Bernie carries her there swiftly, allowing Serena to open the door for her, then strides across the bedroom and lowers the brunette to the bed. 

“Are you sure about this?” she asks. 

“Extremely certain,” Serena says. “Now get your kit off, soldier.” 

“Bossy,” Bernie says, smirking at her as she begins to unbutton her forest green shirt. 

“You like it, though,” Serena says with a purr, sliding her hand into the top of her trousers, then moaning. 

“I do,” Bernie says with a sigh, happy to watch Serena masturbating, but wanting to be the one to make her climax. She can’t help thinking this wasn’t how she saw this evening going, but she is not going to complain. She’s very ready to give the other woman a very good time.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/630042847045976064/can-i-get-coffeeshop-au-and-chocolate-of-romance).


End file.
